


i'm just a moment (so don't let me pass you by)

by adverbialstarlight



Series: voltron bingo stuff [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Eventual Happy Ending, First Meetings, I think?, Light Angst, M/M, Meet-Cute, Technically?, rated teen because i like to swear, yeah that one was an afterthought lmaoo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-08-29 02:45:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16735590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adverbialstarlight/pseuds/adverbialstarlight
Summary: Over the past few years, the rock band Asterism has become pretty well known in the music world. But on the night of their last show on the band's North American tour, Keith's bandmates reveal that they plan on ending it soon. Then he meets Lance on the subway and makes the impulsive decision to stay and watch his band play the night after he was scheduled to fly back home. Keith's then left to wonder-- it the end of his time under the Hollywood spotlight or just the beginning?





	i'm just a moment (so don't let me pass you by)

**Author's Note:**

> was originally written for voltron bingo as a 500 word one shot in september for band au but i have no self control and wrote 5k more these past few days and decided to make it multichapter. oops. enjoy though.
> 
> title from [Outlines by All Time Low](https://youtu.be/7y2DkwtIc1M) bc it's midnight, it's a good song, and fits some of the story's tone
> 
> please excuse any errors, unedited or betaed

Growing up, it wasn’t uncommon for Keith to have to force dreams and aspirations to just die. Sometimes he wondered how things might’ve turned out if someone had taken a chance and just let him  _ try _ rather than ignore it and wait for it to fade. So many little sparks, full of potential to become  _ something _ if they allowed it, all of them stomped out by the adults around him, whether they realized they were doing it or not.

Keith could have become an astronaut. Or an ice hockey player. Or a painter. Or any of the other numerous things that were never allowed to be and were now just a bittersweet, insignificant detail of his childhood.

The guitar had been one of these retired hobbies, one from when Keith had been twelve and received a shitty second– or even third, looking at the wear on it– hand acoustic guitar as a part of some sort of foster kid Christmas toy drive. It had been a joke, give the aloof emo looking kid the guitar, he might become the hot frontman for some punk rock band in a few years, but Keith was fascinated by the instrument. He wanted to pursue learning it, more than the few plucked songs he could play like  _ Deck The Halls  _ and the four basic ‘cowboy chords’ that everyone knew. He’d thought that it would be the thing that  _ stuck, _ and for good this time, but after a year or so he was forced to drop it. No progress could be made, no one was there to help make some happen, and the high E string was one accidentally ungentle pluck away from snapping entirely.

And so Keith put it aside with the rest of the missed opportunities as something to occasionally allow himself to wistfully daydream about. It was just a small, retired skill that he had picked up that was virtually useless in any and all situations now– like knowing all the major constellations or the quickest way to tie a rock climbing figure eight knot. No matter how much he hated to do it though, there was no other option, especially with his lack of musical knowledge and a functioning guitar.

That is, until Shiro came along– the man was impossibly talented and very insistent that Keith try to pick up the instrument again, pretty much not giving him any other choice when he threw a free guitar and lessons at him only two days after they met.

Keith was nineteen,working in a small used video game and CD shop, and hadn’t the slightest idea about what he wanted to do with his life– what he  _ should  _ be doing with his life. The store took in some instruments and a couple kids had just messed up the pegs of an electric guitar on the wall. Keith was in the middle of retuning it, playing a few random notes and chords to make sure it was good, when the other man had strolled in.

When his eyes landed on Keith and the guitar, his eyes lit up like a kid who was promised a trip to Disney World next summer. “Do you play?” Shiro had asked eagerly, whatever he’d come in for forgotten as he practically skipped up to the counter.

“Uh,” Keith began. What was he supposed to say? He was taking too long to answer so he shrugged and mumbled, “Er, kind of? I mean not very well but I guess.”

“Would you like to change that?”

That moment, the universe was offering Keith a new path. A new opportunity that might lead him somewhere  _ very  _ different than where he was currently headed. And so Keith nodded, Shiro smiled, and fate changed.

Five years and several lessons, meetings, and practices later, rather than sitting in a tiny apartment with a cat and broken sink, Keith stood on the stage with a deep red Fender in front of a crowd of hundreds. And they were all there to see him play. Or rather, see the four of them.

 

Early on into Keith and Shiro’s friendship, the older man had introduced Keith to Matt and Adam. They were other music friends of his, and Keith was surprised to learn that he and Adam were together. Matt and Adam seemed to like Keith more than he’d initially thought, and soon Asterism was formed. Shiro was the lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist, Adam the bassist, Matt the drummer, and Keith the lead guitarist.

They’d risen rather quickly on the charts, quickly establishing themselves in the world of rock bands. Some called them the next Three Days Grace. Others said All Time Low. But no matter what their sound was similar to, it was theirs alone, and for a while Keith was happy. Really happy.

But there was something off tonight. It was the last show of the entire tour, something usually played with all their energy. Instead Shiro seemed tired, his hand moved across the fretboard with less dexterity, and Adam kept missing notes. Matt's enthusiasm seemed more forced, and he kept shooting Keith nervous glances. For once, Keith seemed to be the one who was most present, a large contrast from usually being the more stoic, quiet member that didn’t speak too much between songs. And yet.

It was concerning, but he'd have to wait to find out what was wrong. They weren't telling him something, and Keith could tell that something  _ massive  _ was about to change.

The moment the group stepped off stage after their encore and into the green room, Keith crossed his arms and glared at each of his bandmates. “Alright, what is going on? Don’t say that it’s nothing because there’s clearly something going on and you’re going to tell me what it is. It’s affecting how you’re performing and honestly—” He paused, only mumbling the last part. “It’s scaring me.”

Shiro sighed. “We might as well tell him. Adam?”

“Why am I the one who’s got to tell him, it’s mostly about  _ you  _ anyway,” Adam snipped. He pretty much tore off the cap of his water bottle and chugged it with more force than probably necessary. Shiro must’ve done something to really piss him off today or…

“We… we can’t continue,” Shiro said quietly.

He froze, staring wide eyed at his friend. Matt looked away and Adam crossed his arms again, leaning against the wall behind him. “What?” Keith whispered.

“Keith, I’m sorry. It’s just, I don’t know, not going to work anymore. Matt’s going into grad school soon, I’ve got carpal tunnel and… Adam and I don’t think that we can really work well in this band now that— now that we’ve broken up,” Shiro finished.

The air was tense as they waited for Keith’s response. Alright, sure, it made sense, breaking up the band was the logical thing to do after all of that, but he couldn’t help feel a spark of irritation too. What was this to all of them? Some sort of phase?

“Were you ever going to tell me?” he finally asked. “Was I going to have to find all this shit out through fucking  _ Twitter  _ or something?”

“Keith,” Matt began, half standing. Keith ignored him though, gaze still focused on the frontman.

The look that Shiro gave him was painful. He knew that things changed, that nothing could last forever no matter how amazing it was. That was just the way that the universe worked, and Keith was just going to have to accept it. Again.

No one said anything as Keith picked up his bag and headed towards the door, the back one that employees usually used for a smoke break. The one where he would not have to run into anyone as he went.

All the shows so far he endured the after-show meets with fans, the parties and meetings with their various managers and photographers and everyone else. But Keith didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now. He didn’t want to look at his phone, he didn’t want to see his bandmates, he didn’t want anything but to go back to his room in the hotel and sleep until their flight back to LA. When he got there though, what would happen?

This had become Keith’s full time job long ago, they were big enough now to play  _ arena shows _ and his pay was enough that he didn’t need another job and could afford a comfortably sized apartment. But now, if they were going to break up, there would be nothing. Eventually the money would run out, it wouldn’t be enough to fully support him anymore.

He didn’t even remember to pull on his jacket until he reached the subway station, but there were more concerning things on Keith’s mind right now than the fact that the temperature was in the negatives in New York.   
Having ridden the subway every single time they visited the city, Keith swiped his card easily and walked through the turnstile and towards the tunnel leading to his line. It was the same hotel each time as well, Keith could probably navigate his way back there blinded.

It was pretty late so there wasn’t too many people, though there were several teenagers and young adults who had undoubtedly just come from Asterism’s concert from the looks of the t-shirts and slightly dazed looks of someone who had just seen one of their favorite bands play live. Seeing those looks and knowing they were about  _ his  _ band made his chest swell in pride and shock, though tonight there was something sadder there too. They were done. No more albums, no more concerts and interviews.

Keith turned his eyes away from them, hoping that he wouldn’t be recognized even though he was still sweaty and in the red flannel shirt that he wore during every single concert. He’d rather not have to talk to a few fans tonight.

He let his eyes drift over to the young man sitting on the bench. He was holding an old acoustic guitar in his lap, tapping his fingers quietly on the side of it. He was about the same age as Keith, staring at something on his phone. If Keith was being honest, he was pretty cute, with his dark brown hair tucked beneath a gray beanie and the light denim jacket adorned with button pins. A bit hipstery, sure, but maybe he could play well.

The train pulled up to the platform and Keith managed to slip in early enough to snag a seat. Guitar guy sat down next to him, moving the instrument so the neck wouldn’t be right in Keith’s face. Not that he minded too much though, Keith had experienced trying to get onto public transportation with a guitar several times himself.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Keith shook his head. “It’s fine. Your guitar is pretty cool, it’s in really good condition considering you’re just walking around without a case.”

The man laughed, eyebrows raised. “Eh, she gets by, yeah. Do you play? I might be misreading this but I’m pretty sure you just insulted how I keep and transport Blue.”

Keith snorted. “How creative for a tan guitar,” he commented. “But yeah, I play I guess.” He didn’t know why he said that. He was pretty much a professional at this point. But not for much longer, he reminded himself.

“You’ve got a better name? I was ten, I didn’t know how to name these things,” scoffed his companion. “I bet you named  _ your  _ first guitar Red or something. How long have you been at it?”

Shrugging, Keith said, “Since I was twelve. I dropped it for a while and my friend only got me back into it a few years ago.”

“Dude, that’s so cool! I’ve been playing since I was six, my family is really into music. Are you any good at it?”

Keith smiled a bit at that. “I guess you could say that,” he said. If you asked most of the country, they would probably say that he was pretty skilled, considering the complexity of some of the riffs he came up with for Asterism’s songs. He wrote and composed the melody for most of their songs, and Keith realized that was another thing that he was never going to be able to do again.

“Sweet,” he replied, unaware of Keith’s sudden decline in mood. “I’m Lance, by the way. This is probably kinda sudden or soon but you seem like a pretty cool guy and my friends and I are trying to start a band so if you’d like to swing by and watch us some time, that’d be cool.”

“Oh,” Keith said, surprised.

Lance continued quickly, “it’s fine if you don’t want to, I don’t want to pressure you or anything, I—”

Keith shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine. I’d like to see you guys play, that’d be cool, yeah. I’m Keith.”

He paused midramble and looked at Keith for a moment before saying, “Oh. Nice. No one usually says yes to that but cool yeah.  We’re playing on Thursday night at Voltron tomorrow at eight, if you know where that is.” He pulled out a neon orange piece of paper from his jacket pocket and passed it to Keith. “Prepare to be blown away, Keith, you won’t regret it.”

“Guess I’ll be there, then,” he replied immediately, sharing a smile with Lance.

He was not sure why he said that either. He’d just met this guy, and on a subway, no less. Tonight was getting really weird, Keith was never one for a subway conversation no matter how cute the guy sitting next to him was, and yet. The band was booked to fly back to LA on Wednesday night so Keith probably should have told Lance that he couldn’t, but what did he have to lose anymore? There was nothing going on for the next week after that, they would all go their separate ways soon and no longer make music together, and the genuine enthusiasm in Lance’s eyes made Keith genuinely want to go see them play.

As they pulled up to the next stop, Keith stood up and turned back awkwardly. “This is where I get off. See you then, I guess.”

Lance beamed. “Nice meeting you, dude.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Neither of them noticed the poster plastered on the window beside Keith’s head as he stepped out of the car— a promotion for the very show that Asterism had played tonight, Keith’s face plastered on its very center.

* * *

“Keith.”

“No.”

“Do you really think that this is a good idea?”

Keith rolled his eyes and met Adam’s disproving glare with his own. “I’ve been to New York how many times now? It’s going to be fine, I’m a full grown ass adult I can take care of myself.”

“But you can never tell about people, Keith. I’m just worried for your safety. I mean, you met him on a subway at eleven at night, for fuck’s sake! What if the dude is trying to lure you into some sketchy back place so he can do God knows what to you? You can’t blame me for being just a  _ little  _ concerned about this,” Adam argued back, crossing his arms.

Beside him, Shiro stared blankly at the linoleum floors of the airport, anywhere but Keith and Adam. Keith had honestly thought that he was going to be the one to throw a fit when Keith announced that he was staying in New York for one more day. He had said nothing this entire time, and honestly it was getting kind of concerning. Did he want to yell? Was he thinking that Keith was just as moronic as Adam seemed to right now? Or was he even listening in on the conversation, his mind elsewhere as sharp words were exchanged?

Keith wouldn’t blame him if that were the case. All the previous night and this morning, all that he could think about was  _ it’s over _ . Maybe some of his attachment issues had carried into adulthood and he was overreacting, but Keith was terrified. He hadn’t listened when Shiro called him last night when he, Matt, and Adam were finally freed and was making sure that Keith got back alright and told him that walking around so late at night and onto public transportation was stupid. He hadn’t listened to their meeting with Iverson, the band’s manager, when the group announced that they were planning to split before the end of the year. And clutched in his hand, a small crumpled paper advertising The Paladins playing at Voltron on Thursday.

He sighed. “I’m done with this conversation. You guys should get through security before the plane starts boarding. If I end up getting drugged and kidnapped, I’ll be sure to let you know. Voltron is a pretty small restaurant and like right in the middle of Manhattan, we’ve walked past it twice, though, so I highly doubt it. See you in San Francisco for the final concert thing.”

With that, Keith stood up from his chair, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and started back towards the exit. From behind him he heard Shiro mutter something, and when Keith glanced back the two men were rolling their suitcases towards the security lines.

He was going to have a bit of time to kill. The only thing he had planned for being here was Lance's band performing tomorrow night, and there was an endless amount if things that he could do before then. He could be a tourist and see the Statue of Liberty again, maybe go and see a Broadway show despite his only clothing being ripped jeans and fatty t-shirts and tank tops.

Being in a rock band didn't exactly require a black tie wardrobe.

As he approached the subway station, Keith's phone lit up with two new texts.

**[4:15]Matt:** oh hey I forgot I'm p sure that pidge still lives in the area if you wanna see her it's been a bit since you saw each other n I can send you the address

**[4:16]Romelle:** Keith!!! I was on the underground today and saw a poser in the window. U never told me u were going to be in ny?? If ur still here u better come see me >:(

It seemed that his question was solved then. It was a bad t surprising to see a text from Romelle though, they had been friends in high school for a brief time and hadn't really talked since Asterism started to pick up. It would be nice to catch up with her, though.

He got another text from Matt a moment later with Pidge's address, then one from Pidge herself at the same time.

**[4:20]Pidge:** haven't seen you in a while and Matt said you're in the city for a few names for some weird gay thing that might get you killed

**[4:20]Pidge** : before that happens though you want to come by tonight my roommate and I are doing movie night

Keith considered it for a moment as he walked through the turnstile. Why the hell not? He was getting onto the subway right now anyway, and he could see Romelle tomorrow.

**[4:22]Keith:** cool I'm getting onto the subway rn though and have nothing to do would you mind if I came in like 20 min

**[4:22]Pidge:** sure

Keith closed the conversation and replied to Romelle, promising to stop by the next afternoon before shoving his phone into his pocket. He focused his entire focus now onto the subway map before him.

Matt, thankfully, had given him the stop to get off at that was the closest to Pidge's apartment. Now it was only a matter of hoe the fuck to get there. It had to be possible in some way considering the intricacy of the subway system and all of the lines connecting to the airport, but at the same time it was impossible complicated and Keith did not want to get laughed at by Pidge for getting lost again.

It took a few minutes before Keith finally figured out the simplest, most straightforward route, and by the time he got to the platform for the line he needed, the last of the cars were pulling away into the tunnel.

He scowled. Just his luck.

There was only one other person waiting on the platform with him now, a man with long platinum hair and a lavender suit. He was talking on his phone in a rapid, British sounding accent, and Keith was reminded of the business people in LA with their similar arrogance and tailored suits. Something that he was soon never going to have to deal with again.

Keith sighed. It was as if he could think of nothing anymore without trying to relate it back to the band, to think of small every day things that were no longer going to happen every day—ever again, really. He hoped that the rest of his life wasn't going to be like this, or else he was going to go ape shit crazy by the time he reached thirty.

Finally the subway came charging out of the tunnel, wheels screeching in the tracks as the doors opened. A few people stepped out and Keith went to stand next to a pole on the other side of the car.

Phone almost dead and four more stops on this line to go, Keith let his eyes wander.

There was a young woman in a white polo and red apron, her hair pulled into a bun and under a plastic hairnet. She was frowning at something in her phone. A man in an army print jacket held a large tabby cat in his arms, scratching its head as he read a small paperback book. A young boy with red glasses sitting by the window in a school uniform.

Keith froze when his eyes flitted over to the window behind the kid. Staring back at him was his band mates and himself, posed on the large poster advertising their show from last night. This must have been what Romelle had meant, and he let his eyes move around the room again, seeing if anyone else had noticed.

Had there been one of these in the car he’d ridden in the other night too? Had there been paps on there who had seen him and spread word about Keith and Lance already into some crude, twisted, money maker?

Keith had not looked online in a few days with everything that had been going on. But one of his friends would have said something if they did. Wouldn’t they?

Fortunately, everyone else seemed content just keeping to themselves—something that Keith had always appreciated about New Yorkers, especially as he currently had this minor freak out. Oh god, if someone recognized him here, if someone  _ said  _ something about him being here…

The universe has a funny way of working. Whenever you pray to it for some miniscule thing  _ not  _ to happen, that’s usually when it will. Keith should have known that by now, but after the shitty few days he’d just had, he honestly deserved a small bout of mercy.

When the doors opened at the next stop, two girls who looked to be about fifteen stepped into the car. It only took fifteen seconds for them to suddenly turn to him with wide eyes and shout—to the entire goddamn train car, “Holy shit, you’re Keith Kogane, right? Your band is amazing!”

He forced a pleasant smile on his face and prepared himself for the conversation that was about to come. He loved their fans, don’t get Keith wrong, but other than these two, the subway was quiet, and there was a new weight while talking to them now with the unannounced knowledge that they were breaking up soon.

In the end they had come to an agreement to play one more show in a month at a San Francisco charity festival. The statement of Asterism’s breakup would come out the week before it. Keith didn’t know if he was relieved or more anxious that there would still be a few more weeks of them officially being in a band. Then they would be like My Chemical Romance but less known, less missed, and only Shiro would phase into a middle aged dad afterwards.

Their conversation lasted until the next stop, two away from where Keith had to get off, but he could just switch a few lines. The two girls seemed like pleasant people, but there was only so much of these types of things before Keith got overwhelmed.

He let himself wonder as he made his way to the red line. If once Asterism faded away from the music scene that they would still get attention from people like this still? Would they become a relic of the past, a forgotten song at the bottom of people’s music library? They had never been chasing fame, but it still kind of sucked to know that they might soon be forgotten after all of their time and hard work.

It was another three stops on red before he finally reached the station, and Keith breathed in a large gulp of air when he came up from the stairs. The sky was beginning to fade to a periwinkle blue now, a chill in the air as Keith made his way down the street. Pidge’s apartment was supposedly only a block or so away from the station but still the streets proved to be impossibly confusing.

From the few times Keith had been idiotic enough to go wandering around the streets of New York City, it had proven to be a labyrinth more dangerous than IKEA. Everything was so close together, and yet at the same time it all felt incredibly far apart. Each block was a mile long, a million small alleys and backroads along the way that directed you into a completely different place. It was terrifying as it was fascinating.

Pidge and her friend lived off of one of those tiny backroads, some unnamed street that Keith had to turn right to get into, according to her directions. There was supposedly a bright orange trash can with purple stars spray painted on it sitting at the entrance—impossible to miss she’d said.

Turns out though, it  _ was  _ impossible to miss. Keith had been wandering the vicinity for it now for a solid five minutes, but it was to no avail. He pulled out his phone to text Pidge again, irritated. Had they led him to the wrong street? Had he ended up on the wrong street? Maybe—

Suddenly he slammed directly into a hard body and the sound of shaken guitar strings vibrated in the air as he stepped back from the stranger with a curse.

The other person scrambled back as well and began rambling a frantic apology. “Holy shit, I am so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you—holy shit, Keith?”

Keith looked up with wide eyes and met the vibrant dark blue ones of Lance. He nearly laughed aloud, perhaps this was the way the universe was trying to show him a bit of mercy for once. Instead he picked up the paper bag that Lance had dropped in their collision, pressing it back into the other’s arms.

He was in a gray NYU hoodie and black jeans, his guitar slung over his chest like the quiver of arrows of an archer in a fantasy novel. Typical, that he just walked around with the thing on his back all the time, even when it was freezing outside and could start to rain or snow at any moment. It was as if Lance was  _ trying  _ to get his guitar destroyed. And still there was something about it that was almost endearing.

“Hey,” Keith said, nodding. “Don’t worry about it I wasn’t really looking where I was either. It’s, uh, nice to see you again. I mean, not that I wasn’t planning to go see your band play tomorrow night and all and I’d obviously see you then but… yeah.”

He was an idiot. Keith was not the rambly type, he was more of a sit in silent mortification type of person, but honestly walking straight into Lance like that had scared the shit out of him. It was as much of a curse as it was a blessing to have run into Lance today.

Lance smiled. “Yeah, no worries. I’m glad you decided to stick around for that, I’ve...I’ve been looking forward to seeing you there. There’s a pretty great setlist and you might like it.”

Keith was going to blame the blush in his cheeks and the fluttering in his chest on the cold and his lack of a warm winter jacket. “Cool,” he said, hoping it didn’t sound too awkward, “I’m also looking forward to it.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

They stared at each other for another long moment before Lance adjusted his guitar strap and said, “So, not to sound really weird or anything, but I’ve never seen you around here before and you got off closer to Times Square. What’re you doing around these parts?”

“Visiting a friend,” Keith replied, pulling his phone out again, remembering again that he’d been texting Pidge. “Or, trying to anyway. I can’t find her fucking apartment even though her brother said it was easy to get to. Do you live around here?”

Lance nodded. “Yeah, like two more buildings away, actually. I’m pretty familiar with the area, maybe I know your friend and I can help you find her apartment?”

Keith paused before hitting send and looked up at Lance. He would probably get a response from Pidge instantly, directing him to somewhere right there that would make him look like a complete dumbass, but what was the harm in letting Lance help him? Maybe they did know each other and Keith could just follow him instead of Pidge’s directions.

“Yeah, sure, thanks,” he said. “Her name’s Pidge, legally Katie Holt. I think she said something about a purple trash can?”

“Dude, no way,” Lance said. “That’s honestly so cool, what a small world. Pidge and Hunk are like, my best friends. You were pretty close, actually, they’re just through here.” He stopped at another small backway—and right there was the purple trash can. It seemed so obvious now. Keith rolled his eyes.

He walked Keith up to the door and turned, smiling. “Well, this is where I leave you. Until next time, I guess.”

“Yeah, thank you by the way,” Keith replied. “I appreciate it a lot.”

Lance waved his free hand. “It was no big deal, man. See you tomorrow!”

As he turned and headed back to the main street, the door flung open to reveal Pidge standing there, a small smirk on her lips as she pulled him into a hug. “What’s up, Keith? I see you met Lance.”

Keith stiffened at first but after a moment wrapped his arms around her as well. “Yeah. How’re you doing? We haven’t really talked in a while.”

Pidge shrugged, gesturing for him to come inside. “Eh, you know. They usual. Anyway, you ready to watch the first three Sharknado movies in one whole ass sitting? Hunk made snacks.”

Keith let himself be pulled in and up the stairs, grateful Pidge hadn’t brought up Asterism yet. This was definitely what he needed right now—just a normal evening of watching skull numbing movies with his childhood friend and her roommate. Nothing about the band or what was going to happen to him afterwards. Tonight he could just relax and enjoy Pidge’s company while stuffing his face with finger food.

Shiro had always commented that he needed friends, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> me: thIS FANDOM GETS A MULTICHAPTER ROCK BAND AU AND THIS FANDOM GETS A MULTICHAPTER ROCK BAND AU AND—
> 
> yeah can you tell I like rock band aus? i love them a lot.
> 
> anyway this started out in september as a little 500 word voltron bingo thing but the other day i decided to pick it back up, write 5k more and make it a multichapter thing because again i fucking love rock band aus. this is getting a playlist soon bc i like making some of my fics playlists, some of which can be found in my [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/unoriginallylg?si=wtDazGaNSZW63MyFlt12TA). anyway hope you liked this, i wanted to put a little spin on the au because i'm already writing a really cheesy one for throne of glass. have a great day/night/whatever, leave a comment or kudos to make me cry, and that's all bye
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](https://adverbialstarlight.tumblr.com)  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/adverbialnouns)


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